


The Slap

by SuccubusKayko



Series: On a Lark [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Communication, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Oral Sex, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuccubusKayko/pseuds/SuccubusKayko
Summary: “Estinien, please,” she gasped as he caught her particularly deep and she met the thrust with a hard push back against him and into his bruising fingers, “Slap me!”“Excuse me?”orShirina likes it rough and Estinien likes it sloppy.





	The Slap

Estinien was well aware that the miqo'te that shared their bed did not mind a little pain now and then. They'd nearly broken each other their first night together, after all. That time, however, they'd both been angry and grieving and she had been drunk. . . and, well. She was no stranger to pain and neither was he. Too many battles hard won, too many loved ones lost. That they could share easily enough.

 

The first time she asked him to slap her, however, caught him completely off guard. They were well into it at the time. She was on her hands and knees, fingers grasping the sheets below her like a life line and his fingers were kneading the plush muscles of her ass, digging in fingers and pounding her like his life depended on it.

 

“Fuck, Estinien,” she was groaning, low in her throat, her breaths coming in small gasps and she was shaking like a leaf with too much sensation and her voice was utterly wrecked. She was raspy as it was and that night she was particularly hoarse and wheezy and he was enjoying that the words that were able to spill from her lips were his name and all of the filthy obscenities she'd learned over a life time. He particularly liked it when she cried and whispered his name. It was like balm to his soul and sexy as hell, besides.

 

“Estinien, please,” she gasped as he caught her particularly deep and she met the thrust with a hard push back against him and into his bruising fingers, “Slap me, please?”

 

He faltered and blinked at her back, then managed, “Excuse me?”

 

“Oh, please,” she let out a low whining purr as she rolled her hips and ground against him and he couldn't help but to push back. His ears were burning and he was fucking flying high on the feel of her, but his brain couldn't quite catch up with the rest of him.

 

“But, Aymeric,” he groaned, rutting into her and pushing her forward onto her elbows. Hadn't they **just** had a _talk_ about Aymeric being incredibly unhappy with them _hurting_ each other?

 

“Please,” she was breathless and spared a quick glance over her shoulder, before reaching back and grabbing at his hand on her ass. She squeezed it first, letting out a contented sigh as she ground the tips of his fingers into her flesh and then she smoothed his hand over her back side. Propped on one elbow and turned back as much as she could be, he could see the beautiful way she rolled her lip between her teeth and the way her eyes fluttered as she looked up at him from below her lashes. Her hair was curled wildly around her shoulders, her bangs plastered to her forehead with the sweat of their exertions and, dammit, she was the very vision of the Fury in the flesh.

 

“Just a little smack,” she breathed, wiggling her behind temptingly and driving him fucking wild with that wanton look in her mismatched eyes, “C'mon, sexy,” she drawled in that thick accent that sometimes bled through in moments like these, “It'll feel so. _Fucking_. Good.”

 

She dropped her hands away after a few seconds, curving arms under her head and really shoving her ass out there for him. Fuck, he loved her ass and she knew it and she was doing everything she could to get him to really think about it.

 

“I do not want to hurt you,” he hissed between his teeth as his fingers twitched over her behind and gathered the padded flesh into his hand again.

 

A little grunt of laughter, “Estinien, you've bled me. This won'- do _that_ again. Yes! – won' even le~ave a mark.” And she was panting again because he'd found that spot nice and deep and the angle was perfect to abuse that little bundle of nerves. She muttered something incoherent as he drove against it and she was tensing up and he could feel her coming undone beneath him.

 

She felt amazing and she was practically sobbing with her pleasure and literally begging between breaths for him to just smack her. Just once. Please, please, please? Pretty please?

 

She did beg so sweetly and, consequences be damned, if that's how she wanted it.

 

He clapped his hand against the meat of her behind, hard enough to sting, and he saw stars. The high pitch of her voice, the way the muscles in her back knit together and the way she was just suddenly _impossibly_ tight and the flood of hot liquid sex around him had him doubling over her, coming so damned hard he couldn't even catch his breath for what felt like a solid minute.

 

She was swallowing and gasping and there wasn't the hint of pain in the sounds that escaped her as she twitched around his cock and her cunt was milking him for every drop that he spilled inside her.

 

They lay there just writhing and catching their breaths for so long that he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't passed out at some point. It took even longer for the gears in his brain to start turning again.

 

“What was that all about,” he murmured against her back, unable to summon up even a false sense of irritation. His legs were all jelly and if she was uncomfortable with how his weight pressed her into the bed, she didn't complain. The fact that she didn't immediately complain about being dripping and sticky from their fluids was equally telling. She was usually the first to go for a damp rag.

 

She was languid and dreamy eyed as she turned her cheek to rest on her folded arms, her half-lidded eyes angled to look at him from their happily crinkled corners. Her voice was a pleased little rasp, “I take it you liked it as much as I did?”

 

He didn't answer right away, busying his mouth with brushing his lips along the backs of her shoulders and nipping at the curve of her shoulder blades. They both knew he was stalling when he began to work his tongue down her spine and she was shivering from both the lovely sensation and the cool, wet trail that the absence of his hot tongue left behind. She didn't immediately call him on it, which he was thankful for, because he wasn't entirely sure how to answer that.

 

It felt fantastic, there was no denying that, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why it felt somehow wrong? Maybe because Aymeric wasn't over pleased with the way things had started out for them, so to speak, and it made him feel guilty to go against his wishes? Maybe it was because he'd enjoyed it so much? But then so had she, apparently. It was just one little smack. But maybe that's what was bothering him? Maybe next time it wouldn't be just one? And maybe the time after that it wouldn't just be a little smack?

 

They had the terrible tendency to escalate to the point of self-destruction, if their equally checkered past had anything to say about it.

 

“I won't ask you to stop what you're doing,” she hummed, pulling the closest pillow to prop her head on and sighing with relief when he finally eased the pressure on her hips by scooting further down on the mattress. She murmured into the pillow, “Because it feels amazing. . .” He sunk his teeth into the tender flesh at the base of her tail and got a face full of fur and a startled giggle for his trouble, her tail batting against his cheek. “I would ask that you answer my question, though,” she purred, craning her neck to look over her shoulder at him, “I know we're not super great at talking about things, yet, but we should probably start somewhere.”

 

“Mmh,” was his answer as he batted her tail out of his face and pinned it against her hip to keep it still. He lathed his tongue over the slight indention of his teeth and she squirmed at the attention, only held in place by his abdomen pinning her legs beneath him.

 

“Estinien,” her tone was a little firmer as her tail wiggled under his grip. He frowned as his eyes came to the little welts on her behind, a perfect imprint of his fingers and still hot to the touch. He pressed a kiss to the skin and she sucked in a little breath that he mistook for pain.

 

“So it did hurt, then,” he sighed, tucking his elbows under him to relieve a bit more of the pressure on her and a deep set frown marring his face.

 

“A little,” she whispered, but she was eyeing him cautiously, as she said, “But that's sort of the point, isn't it?”

 

“I am not entirely sure what you mean,” he admitted, as he dragged himself away from her. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “We shouldn't be doing this, not if we're going to keep hurting each other.”

 

“Don't go,” she whimpered, coming up on an elbow to look at him, “I didn't mean to upset you.” And she was looking at him so pathetically, her eyes all misty and her face a little scared. “I won't ask you to do it again. Please, stay?”

 

He let out a growl of frustration, this infuriatingly mercurial woman trying his patience even as he was trying to keep his shit together.

 

“Why do you like it?”

 

She relaxed a little and offered him a half smile for his trouble, “Because its you?”

 

“That sounds like a load of crock,” he snorted, but he waited for her to continue.

 

She shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand for him. He tentatively took it and she tugged at his fingers until he was sitting beside her.

 

“Do you remember the morning after you came home,” she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

 

“Somewhat, yes,” he huffed, but twined their fingers together fondly.

 

“Do you remember when I walked in on you and Aymeric,” she chuckled, “I slammed the door and Aymeric panicked and. . .”

 

He groaned at the memory, it had been so awkward, but Aymeric had tensed and . . .

 

“Really? That's why you asked me to _hit_ you,” he deadpanned, casting her a side long look.

 

“I mean, the look on your face was just so blissfully helpless,” she smiled sheepishly, dipping her head as she realized that it may not have been the best laid plan. But, good intentions, and all that. “And I just wanted to make you feel like that again.” She let out a little huff of amusement, puffing her bangs out of her eyes with a little breath, “And it doesn't hurt when I'm all over stimulated like that.” She shifted her gaze back to his and a wry little smile replaced the almost shy one, “Besides, you don't seem to have any issue with sinking your teeth in me any chance you get.” She nipped his shoulder to prove her point.

 

“That's,” he took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say to that, a stupid smile curling his lips as he realized that it was a _very_ fair point. He decided on action, instead, taking her face in his hands and slanting his mouth over hers in a tender kiss that had her twining her fingers in his hair and humming happily. When he finally pulled away, the both of them panting a little, he murmured, “Maybe once in a while, then? Let's just not make a habit of it or Aymeric might shit a brick or seven. . .”

 

She hums in agreement.

 

He's easing her back against the mattress and she's propped up on an elbow as his mouth trails from her lips to her neck and then her shoulder and lower, lower. He catches a nipple with one of his teeth and her breath hitches in her throat and he worries the flesh with his teeth and tongue until she's shoving his head away with a curse. But he doesn't get far because her fingers are wound in his pale hair and she's tugging him back up for another kiss, more heat, more urgency, because it doesn't take much to get her going once his hands are on her again.

 

He's dragging his nails down her side, she's a touch ticklish and he swallows a giggle and slips a hand behind her back and grabs a handful of her taut little ass to keep her from squirming away. The laughter dies off and she shivers instead as he's kneading her behind and working his nails down her hip, over the sensitive flesh of her pelvic bone and into the little hallow. She groans as he makes for the cleft between her legs, but the sound is equal parts amusement and mild disgust. She's batting his hand away and she tears her lips away long enough to whisper, “Ugh, don't. I'm all sticky and gross.”

 

He snorts and rolls his eyes, “I don't care.”

 

“I do.”

 

He rolls his eyes again and lets his hands fall away, giving her a half-hearted growl of frustration, “Fine.” He pushes her back against the bed when she makes to stand, “Just scoot up and I'll get you clean.” He leaves her long enough to grab a clean cloth and comes back to her. He comes back to see she's found the wet spot they left and she's grumbling about the mess. He steps between her legs and tosses the cloth onto the spot she's fussing about, resting his hands on her hips and kissing her belly.

 

He sees her smile in confusion, blinking down at him, “What about me, jerk?”

 

He curls his fingers around her hips and tugs her forward, going to his knees and burying his face against her inner thigh before she can protest. He's got a firm grip on her ass and she squirms.

 

“Ugh! No,” she grumbles as she simultaneously tries to push his head away and close her legs to keep him from going further, “Estinien, gross!”

 

He mumbles something smart mouthed and she slaps the top of his head. He sniggers as he seals his lips into a searing kiss on the tender flesh of her thigh and laps at the sweaty, sticky mess they've made. She whimpers because she loves his mouth on her and because hates the feeling of being sweaty and dirty, never mind how much of her time she spends that way. As he lathes his tongue along sensitive flesh, she eases her thighs open again, sighing in defeat. He's being equal parts sweet and a dick and she can't _really_ say no because he's doing exactly what he'd said and – gods dammit – he's good with that smart mouth. And she was ready for round two, besides.

 

“I am sooo not kissing you after this,” she warns, but she's already shivering with want and twining her fingers back in his hair as he's tracing her folds and giving her a very thorough 'cleaning'.

 


End file.
